As we enter the darker and colder months, things that we have buried deep down throughout the year may decide to resurface. Or, perhaps, our anxiety and depression never go away, no matter the weather or season. Nevertheless, acknowledging our mental health is vital. And today's guest post does just that. It is truly riveting. Denisio Truitt, an artist, and writer, residing in New Orleans, wrote a heartfelt and poignant letter to her depression. Enjoy it below.

Denisio is a Liberian-American clothing designer, artist and writer currently residing in New Orleans. She is continuously exploring the intersections of her identity as a Queer Black African Femme through her creative work. To learn more visit dopeciety.com or catch up with her on IG: @denisiotruitt

An Open Letter to my Depression

Dear Depression,

You know I’ve always found comfort and truth in written words, hence this letter. It’s easier to organize thoughts and feelings on paper (or rather screens and keypads) than to set words to breathe from my ever-anxious tongue. Speech has never been my thing as the connection between my brain and vocal cords is a faulty frayed wire, all sparks, and electric smoke. And so, when the words truly matter, I turn to poetry and prose.

We met early on, though I didn’t learn your name until high school while trudging knee-deep through the murkiness of teenage angst. A doctor with small rimless glasses and a clean-shaven head called you Major Depressive Disorder. Even now the words feel weighted and clumsy, like steel bolts in my mouth. The years following the diagnosis I tried to convince myself you didn't matter. I smiled in public, made my friends laugh, pretended to be "normal", hoping you'd eventually get the memo. You never did.

And then the other day it hit me. In our 26 year relationship, we’ve never actually spoken. How strange to think I’ve never told you how I feel despite your near-constant presence, your unwanted visits to my bed, and all the damage you’ve caused. Sure I’ve talked about you to family, friends, therapists, and doctors. I’ve even written poems and introspective pieces about your impact on my life. But I've never directed my words toward you, Depression. Not really. Perhaps because I never saw you as a thing to talk to. Until now.

So where do I begin? I could never unpack then trim down two decades of silence into a few flowery paragraphs. It would be a disservice to us both. So instead I’ll tell you where I’m at today with our relationship and the boundaries I need you to respect if we are to coexist in this vessel. It’s important you know that after years of denying your existence, after fruitless efforts to eradicate you from my body, I now wholeheartedly accept you. I acknowledge and accept your existence and your permanent space in my life. Does that shock you? It shocked me. But allow me to clarify.

Accepting you means I will no longer fight your regular visits. I've spent decades angered by your persistent presence. And you've spent decades feeding off of that anger. I hated myself. For my inability to barricade the door against you. For losing myself in the abyss of down comforters days at a time. For not texting back that friend. For putting significant others through my highs and low, low...lows. No more. It is pointless to hate you or resist you. I am no longer interested in destroying myself, ripping myself apart in an effort to reach you. I reclaim my energy and my power.

In accepting you, Depression, I accept the lifelong task of caring for you because having compassion for you is being tender with myself. Therapy, prescription medication, herbal supplements, crystals, smudges, journaling, and creative work have all been included in my arsenal of care. I understand that you are fluid and ever-changing and so I will be patient when what worked a month ago doesn't work this month. In accepting you I assume the obligation of being vigilant, checking in, and being brave enough to call on others if and when the burden becomes too much. Accepting you is accepting the work that must be done.

It is important you know my acceptance of you DOES NOT equal submission. This letter is in no way a white flag. I will never surrender my body and mind to you. I cannot allow you to drag me down into the interminable depths of you, Depression. In accepting you I will receive you, I will endure you, and I will believe in you because anything else is denying reality. I will even pour all of the love I can muster into you. But you will never have dominion over me. I have a lot of life to live and I intend to do so for quite a while.

I hope that you too can find acceptance in what I have written here. We have a long road ahead of us. I think we’ll be alright.

So many of us struggle with anxiety during the holidays and it can be difficult to move through the different hurdles that come along with the holiday season. D.C. based writer, Ajolique Jude, shares some insight on how to deal with family triggered anxiety in ways that are healthy, helpful, and rooted in self-care.

Ajolique is a poet and writer based in Washington, DC. Connect with her on both Instagram and Twitter: @ajolique

Dealing with Family Anxiety during the Holidays

For many of us, the holiday season can be a difficult period to navigate when family relations are strained, broken or unbalanced, anything less than joyful. While it’s wonderful to spend time with loved ones during the holidays, these gatherings are not safe spaces for all of us.

My mother passed when I was young, and aside from the expected grief, a ripple of unexpected implications followed. Immediately following her death, many family members stepped in to assist my dad with raising my brother and I. Watching us on weekends and evenings when he had to work. Occupying our time with crafts and activities and serving as a welcomed distraction.

As time wore on, that involvement switched to a slow distancing from my dad, my brother and I. We had shifted to the outskirts of the family circle and to this day, I’m not sure what caused some family to distance themselves and others to develop a deep-seated distaste. But I have come to realize, when you stand firmly in your identity and beliefs, everyone will not open their arms to you. This means sometimes the familiar will have to become unfamiliar.

Even knowing this, I feel anxious every year around this time when I have to make a decision whether to attend family gatherings or keep space for myself. Part of my awareness journey is to be still and check in with my feelings so I can make clear decisions that honor my needs. As Thanksgiving approached this year, I had to check in with myself when invited to gather with my family. Do I have the resources needed to be present with my family right now-- time, energy, peace? How do I want to spend that time? If I am isolated or disrespected, will I be able to maneuver in that space and protect myself, if necessary?

When the thought and expectation of family gatherings overwhelm you, it can be useful to shift your focus and reclaim your joy by intentionally choosing an uplifting alternative. These are some of my favorite ways to cultivate joy during the holidays:

Spend time with chosen loved ones and friends who fuel your light and value your presence.

Give of yourself. Your time, energy and resources can be a huge blessing to those in need during this season.

Treat yourself to the small joys of the season. Cook for yourself. Bake yourself the most delicious pie. Adorn your space.

We create our joy. We can cultivate it wherever we choose. Can you find or create spaces where you feel safe and loved during the holiday season?

I am in the final stretch of pregnancy. With a little over a month a left to go, time has seemed to slow down. My third-trimester fatigue has heightened, and both me and baby have grown immensely over the past eight months and some change. I feel really good these days. Content. Happy. Satisfied that I have found a new meaning of creating home, not only for another human being but for myself.

The older I get, the more I understand that finding myself (entirely) plays a significant part in living freely, authentically, and intentionally. There is no way to create a haven within if pieces of me are still lost, scattered, and in hiding. This pregnancy has opened my eyes to that, way more than before. Perhaps it's because I have so much extra time on my hands that thinking and napping are pretty much all I do. I have been forced to make even more shifts and changes during my solitude as I prepare to welcome a new life into our family. Through my journey to self, I have found myself stuck in certain aspects, particularly, when it comes to forgiveness. Quite a few emotional things from my past have resurfaced that I wasn't prepared to deal with, especially during this time. But of course, that is how it always works. Our things come to the surface when we least expect or want them to.

During my days of thinking and trying to understand certain elements of my life, I have come to strongly realize that the only way I can be truly free is if I greet forgiveness with openness and the possibility for emotional reconciliation. Forgiveness does not mean to forget, nor does it translate into reassembling external relationships that we don't feel supported in. However, it does require acknowledgment, acceptance, and the ability to let go. Acceptance and letting go are most challenging for me. And being a control freak over my life and what happens in it (how unrealistic is that?!) doesn't make tackling those two things an easy task. Nevertheless, as I move through this pregnancy with a new found sense of home and awareness, I am also learning to walk through forgiveness in a way that is more intentional.

My forgiveness looks like releasing the anger and hurt of the past and deciding to walk forward in love and greater understanding. This requires vulnerability and softness. We cannot travel through forgiveness if our hearts are hardened. As we step into the last month of 2017, I am choosing to lead my pain, anxiety, and uncertainty through the doors of forgiveness, mercy, and grace. I am in charge of my healing and how I move through the world even when it's uncomfortable. Creating home means rearranging and that is what I plan to do.